Day Four: I love being a Mom.

Prior to BigBrother’s birth, I knew I would like being an everyday Mom. But I had no clue how much. I still had some anxiety about how I would handle my then-beloved career and motherhood. I couldn’t yet imagine, prior to being knee-deep in everyday mothering, not putting my career first. I was the pregnant woman who claimed (in online due date communities) that yes, I was returning to my job, full-time, and I would love every moment of it. Then he was born. And I went back part-time. And then, by the time he hit eight months, I turned in my resignation. And now? I can’t imagine anything more rewarding than being with my kid(s).

I didn’t really know I’d feel this way. Or be good at mothering. I didn’t know I’d enjoy reading the same book eighty-bagillion times. I didn’t know that I wouldn’t mind doing the never-ending laundry. I didn’t know I’d find joy in creating foods that the Little Man will actually consume. I had no clue the joy that cuddling my own child would bring.

I love the little things. Even pee soaked sheets because we forgot to throw on a cloth diaper. I like doing laundry. And playing. And laughing. I don’t always like the hard moments (teething (which is over… FOR NOW) and tantrums, for example) but I can handle them as well. With style.

And what does this have to do with adoption?

It really, really saddens me. I remember feeling like the worst possible candidate for motherhood while I was pregnant with the Munchkin. Certain people (like TheHusbandMan) tried to help me see the mothering intuition that I possessed but I couldn’t see past what society and the agency were telling me: I was single, I was poor and I was young. I wasn’t fit to be a mother. It’s just sad.

It also had an effect on how I went into parenting BigBrother. It really worried me, this thought that I wasn’t a good enough mother. I thought I would screw up BigBrother. I thought I would be awful. Then TheHusbandMan got the flu and I spent the first three days of parenting as a virtual single mother. And I rocked it.

I get down, sometimes, realizing that I would have been a fantastic mother for the Munchkin. But I then remind myself that I could spend that negative energy (previous sentence) on being the best possible first mother for her. And that’s what gets me through.

(Late post again because I’ve been resting all day.)